Eggs and Black Coffee
by IvoryRose888
Summary: A SoMa College AU, in which Maka is a meticulous English nerd, and Soul is a frustrated music major who both want the same booth in the dining hall. *Thank you to the kind anon who pointed out my error.*
1. Eggs and Black Coffee

***Thank you to the kind anon who so delicately pointed out my error. You know who you are.***

It was a routine she had established since the day she first stepped onto Shibusen College's campus as a full time student. Every morning, she got up at 7 on the dot, brushed her teeth, pulled her hair back into her signature pigtails, and slid into whatever outfit suited her fancy, usually a plaid skirt, a white v-neck, and a pair of black boots that that loved her toned calves.

She left home at exactly 7:20 every morning and arrived on campus at 7:55. Once she arrived at the prestigious college's dining hall, she would sit in the same booth, eat the same eggs, oatmeal, and pancakes, (She was a runner, okay? She needed the carbs.) drink the same vanilla latte, and read whatever novel she was engrossed in that week. It was predictable, but it was stable and precise, and those were things that Maka valued beyond measure. So, naturally, when she encountered early morning bumper to bumper traffic because of an accident at the intersection in front of Shibusen, she was a little more than perturbed.

"Come on, dammit, get a move on!" She still had an hour and a half until her first class started, but she enjoyed the silence of the dining hall in the morning, the beauty of it fully appreciated as the sun made its ascent, tossing brilliant rays through the lofty windows. She also enjoyed sticking to her schedule; if she didn't, her entire day would be thrown off.

When she finally cleared the intersection, grimacing when she passed the wreckage but chuckling when a blue-haired youth nearly turned purple from choking down his rage in the face of a doe-eyed beauty with long black hair, she sped onto campus and swung into the parking deck, noting that her usual spot was occupied by an orange motorcycle. "Of all the ugly colors for such a ridiculous vehicle…" Slamming her door, Maka sped toward the commons, biting her lip when she noticed the time. "I still have a little over an hour, it'll be-you've got to be kidding." Maka pulled up, books pressed indignantly to her chest, an unmistakable scowl marring her features when she absorbed a crop of stark white occupying _her_ booth.

"Um, excuse me." She mustered the sweetest, most innocent tone and smile she could at 8:17am on a day like this. She swallowed when deep crimson rose to meet glittering jade, the frustrated scowl on the other's lips just as deep as her own.

"Yeah, what?"

"W-well-" She never got nervous like this around anyone, much less an obviously rude guy like this one, but there was something about his piercing gaze, despite the dark bags that outlined his brilliant irises… "It's just that…well, I normally sit here. It's like, a routine, I guess, so-"

"No."

She felt her entire body heat up. "Excuse me?"

"I said 'no.' I'm not going to move all this crap just because some girl I don't even know sits here every day. Besides, it's not good to follow a set pattern all the time. It's too predictable. Some creep could catch on and-"

"Of all the insufferable-"

"Oh don't start. It's one seat. If you want it so bad, there's plenty of room on the OTHER bench." He gestured roughly to the opposite side of the booth which was, in fact, vacant, compared to his side which was overflowing with books and lined paper, the latter causing her to raise a brow. It wasn't standard notebook paper; the lines were black and- She blinked when she suddenly found him staring at her. "I'm not moving. Glaring at me won't make me change my mind."

"I-" Screwing up her features, Maka reluctantly sat, depositing her own books and backpack before she rose again to get her food. When she returned, she found the rather hostile boy immersed in his work, bent over the strange sheets with startling ferocity. After an unbearably awkward silence, she commented, "Black coffee and eggs, huh?"

"Breakfast of champions." He muttered, never lifting his eyes from the page in front of him.

"Yeah…" Cramming her fork into a pile of scrambled egg, she filled her cheeks and snatched the text on the top of her pile which, sadly, ended up being her music theory textbook.

Maka Albarn had graduated from high school as her class valedictorian (much to the chagrin of her long time rival, Ox Ford. She'd beaten him by a one hundredth of a GPA point, but she still rubbed it in his face to that day.) She was the captain and star of the cross country and track teams, taking state and even national titles from her sophomore year all the way through graduation. She was a black belt in 3 different martial art forms, and had served as student body vice president (Kidd was better suited for presidential duties.), but she couldn't play an instrument to save her life.

She just didn't get music. She'd never "gotten" music. It just didn't make sense to her. A combination of air waves moving at different frequencies…She could understand songs. Songs had lyrics, and lyrics had meanings, whether superficial or deeply provoking. Music itself though….She just didn't get it. Many frowned upon her preference for synthetic rhythms and tones, but it was what made sense to her. Sighing, she slapped open the thick volume and tried to concentrate on the words in front of her.

**_TIME SIGNATURES_**

The bold, black characters declared. Apparently there were multiple types. 4/4, 3/4, 6/8….Those she understood the theory of. They were like fractions. 4 beats per measure, the one fourth, or quarter, note gets the beat, a simple enough concept to memorize and regurgitate. Actually counting them out and keeping a steady beat…not so much.

_Exercise 1.6: Tap out a steady 4/4 beat. Any surface or instrument will do, just remember: keep it steady._

Glancing across the table, Maka tentatively laid her hand across her thigh, softly chanting 1-2-3-4 to herself before she began to pat out the rhythm. 1-2-3-4 1-2…3-4 1…2-3…4

"Do you mind?"

She visibly started when his coarse tone sliced through her concentration. "What?"

"I'm trying to work and you're over there making sloppy rhythms."

"Excuse you." She bit off. "I'm working, too! This is-" Before she could finish, he flipped up the cover of her textbook, a vicious smirk overtaking his lips.

"Intro to music theory, level one? Beginners? Are you serious? I didn't even think they had a level this basic in college."

"W-well some of us started later-"

"You don't know anything about music, do you? And I bet you didn't even want to take the class. It was one of those bs required courses. Music appreciation, right?" She was speechless. "It's obvious." He snickered, releasing her book cover with a sadistically satisfied flourish, turning to pack up his own books and papers.

"Oh yeah, well what do you know about music?"

"Plenty. A crap ton more than you."

"Well…then…" Don't do anything you'll regret, Maka. "Why don't you teach me a thing or two, Mr. Expert?" Like that. She didn't even know this guy-

"Can't."

After all that- "Why the hell not?!"

"Class." He grinned wickedly, tossing his backpack over his shoulder and striding out of the hall. "And by the way," He called back. "The name's Evans, not Expert."

"Of all the gall…" Tossing her music text aside, Maka scooped up her Honors Literature textbook and dove into the world of Hemingway, the wrinkle in her forehead smoothing out with each word.

* * *

"Damn." Maka sighed at her professor's comments on her attempt at a composition. "He's brutal-" She stopped short in front of the scarlet booth, her jaw setting immediately. "Well, this feels familiar…"

"Are you kidding me?"

"What?"

"You actually eat lunch here, too?"

"What of it?"

"Nothing. Just remember what I said about predictability."

"What about you? You're here again!"

"Just for today."

Scoffing, Maka threw herself into the seat across from him, running her fingers through her hair as the bold "Needs major improvement." leered at her from the page.

"What're you so worked up about?"

"Nothing." She stuffed the paper into her backpack, quickly pulling out her lit book.

Now it was his turn to scoff.

"What?"

"Literature?"

"What about it?"

"Nothing. I just should've known you were a bookworm."

"Makaaaaaa-"

"Hey, what the-"

"CHOP!"

"OW! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

"What's wrong with reading?!"

"Nothing at all, if you like being a nerdy, granny-panty-wearing bore…who abuses other people with her love of liter- ow, that hurt!"

"That's what you get…" She mumbled.

"Damn, you're a crazy bi-Never mind." He clamped his jaw when he noticed her arm rising again. The blonde grit her teeth and flipped to Yeats, her shoulders relaxing as she read her stresses away.

"You're like a totally different person when you're reading, you know." He said after a while.

She lifted her eyes, her face still tilted toward the anthology. "Thanks, I guess? Weird way to start a conversation."

"Just an observation."

"How am I so different?"

"Hard to explain. Don't wanna look like an ignorant idiot in front of a bookworm, so I'll tell you when I have the right words."

"Assuming we're still alive by then."

"Hey!"

She giggled. Each turned back to their work, the air between them just a bit less strained than before.

* * *

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

Maka grinned just a bit as the albino slid into the booth across from her. What started as an obnoxious encounter turned into a daily ritual of sorts, a new routine that she wasn't sure was really all that bad. They ate breakfast and lunch together. Sometimes she'd arrive and find him bent cursing to himself over what she'd finally realized was blank staves on sheet music. Sometimes he'd stroll up and have to greet her multiple times to pull her from her literary reverie. Some days they didn't say anything at all, just slid onto their respective benches and set to work, eating quietly while shooting fleeting glances at the other. Today was one of those rare occasions on which they actually exchanged more than a terse greeting.

"What's wrong?"

The albino scowled, tossing his books onto the bench. "This bs essay I have to write for history. What's the point? It's the past. It's done. Rehashing history is probably what makes it repeat itself."

"In the words of Faulkner: 'The past is never dead. It's not even past.'"

"Tch." He grunted and dramatically slapped his history notes on the table. "But it's so boring. It's the same damn thing over and over. Someone does something stupid and starts a war. One country conquers another. Some crazy illness spreads and kills everyone. It's the same thing."

"You have a point there." She said thoughtfully. "But it's still important to learn about and from the past. Some people have."

"What's past should stay that way." He muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. So, literature, again?"

"Yup. We're studying mythology this time."

"Cool. And how's that music class going?" He sniggered.

"Not so great." She confessed, having given up trying to hide her musical iniquities from him weeks ago. He could read her better than she was completely comfortable with, but something about someone who understood her was….refreshing. "I mean, I've aced all of the theory exams, but…he's had us write three compositions so far…and I failed all of them." She grumbled.

"Damn." He sobered. "You know, I can help you out if you're really struggling that much."

"Really?" She perked up a bit, hope shining in her eyes. She wasn't exactly sure how skilled he was with music, but she did know he was in one of the highest music classes the college offered, as a freshman, too. That counted for something, right? "That would be amazing! We could do it during breakfast or lunch, and-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there, bookworm." He raised his hands in surrender when her fingers pinched the spine of her Lit. text. "Not for free. My price isn't too hefty though."

Maka frowned. Just like a boy to-

"It's just…" His gaze fell. "A date."

She blinked. "What? Are you serious? That's so…cheesy." She chortled.

"Yeah, well." She noticed with slight puzzlement that his tan cheeks had taken on a rosy tint. "So…do we have a deal?"

"I think the terms are acceptable."

"Cool."


	2. Dinner Dates and Music Tastes

"That will be all for tonight, everyone." The gray-headed science professor droned. "Make sure your projects are…"

"Alright, Tsu." The energetic blonde nearly bounced as she strode alongside the taller girl. "When are you available to work on this?"

"Huh? Oh." Tsubaki gently tucked a strand of her long, dark hair behind her ear, turning toward Maka with a small smile. "Whenever is fine with me."

"Are you alright?" Glistening jade darted toward her friend's creamy features. "You seem a little out there, today."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just…thinking about things."

"Like…the accident?"

"Well, kind of…but, more like the aftermath."

Maka grimaced. "Ooo, really? Is Blake that worked up about it? He hasn't shown it at all in class…"

"No, no, not that at all…um…we…" Tsubaki bit her lip. "uh…We ended up spending three hours in my insurance agent's office together….But we talked a lot…and, well, he asked me to dinner." The sweet-natured Japanese girl shrugged.

"And you said yes?!" Ashe blonde pigtails swung haphazardly as the other girl's head jerked sideways, their chemistry lab project immediately forgotten.

"Well, the accident was really my fault, so I figured it couldn't hurt to humor him. He's actually kinda nice…when he's not being arrogant…" Was she…blushing?…"Actually, we're about to meet. You could come along…"

"No thanks, I get plenty of him in History. Besides,." Maka smiled knowingly. "I really need to get home and make dinner for my papa."

"Oh, ok. If you're sure… Good night, Maka!"

"Night, Tsubaki!" The blonde waved as they parted, unable to suppress a grin. The irony of it all. That stupid accident-

She started a bit when familiar white-blonde flashed to her right, illuminated by the surrounding lights of the outdoor amphitheater. He lay in the fourth row, unruly bangs shading his eyes as he lounged against his backpack.

"Soul?" No reply. There was no way it was anyone else. "Soul!" Still nothing. The stark crop didn't budge. Huffing, she hopped down the rows until her feet were inches from his. "S-" She cut off when she realized he had headphones in. That, and…he looked so peaceful…before she could retreat, though, slits of crimson cracked open and immediately grew wider when he realized she was there.

"He-" He started before he popped out a headphone and loosened the gravel from his throat. "Hey, what're you doing here so late?"

"I have a chemistry lab from 6 to 9. What about you?"

"I live here."

"Oh, wow really? What kind of scholarship did you get?"

"Huh?"

"Well, I mean it's super expensive here. I could only come because I managed to get a full ride."

"Yeah, something like that." He suddenly looked incredibly uncomfortable, and, when he couldn't meet her gaze and opted for his fidgety thumbs, she dropped it altogether.

"So." She eased her backpack off her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the grass, and she quickly followed suit. "You like coming out here, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's nice…being on the far side of campus and all. Away from all the buildings and the people and the noise."

"Yeah…and the lights. You can actually see the stars here!"

"Mmhmm." He patted the vacant grass beside him, and she sprawled with her arms behind her head.

"Wow…" After a moment, she asked, "So, what were you listening to?"

"Different stuff. Some Gorillaz, Death Cab for Cutie, and a little Miles Davis."

"Hmm."

"You've never heard of any of them."

"W-Well….sometimes this guy, Blake, listens to Gorillaz while we're waiting for our History professor."

"Blue-haired Blake?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"He's my neighbor. I showed him Gorillaz the first time we hung out."

"Oh…well, we've gone to the same school since elementary school. Crazy how we ended up here together, too. He's on a football scholarship. Anyway, he let me listen once to a song once. I didn't like it that much though…"

"Which song?"

"Umm…something about…guns and skeletons?"

"Kids With Guns. Not one of my favorites, either. You have to listen to their more popular stuff first, like Clint Eastwood and Feel Good Inc., then shift into other songs. Lyrics are pretty interesting."

"O-oh…."

"Yeah. Death Cab can be an acquired taste, too, but their lyrics are great. Might be better for a bookworm."

"Hey-"

She suddenly felt a light pressure on the crown of her head; she could just make out his finger tips through her bangs. "Chill, it's true, though. You'd appreciate them. Miles Davis is blues. No lyrics, just music, so that might not be for you."

"Maybe not…"

"What do you listen to?"

She chewed her bottom lip. "….Techno, drum and bass kind of stuff."

"Are you serious?" She felt his body quiver as he chuckled, and her face heated up immediately. "That crap isn't music."

"It is to me!" She cried, suddenly sitting up. "If that's what I like, it's what I like! You have your taste and I have mine. What's the big deal?"

He stared at her for a moment, studying her, seeming to be searching for something. After a moment he sighed and retorted, "Whatever you say. I guess I can't expect to teach you theory and how to have good music taste…." He grinned at her wickedly, to which she only scowled in return. "Kidding. To each his own, I guess." A beat passed before he started, "So about that date…"

"Hmm…I might have to rethink that, if you're just going to make fun of my music taste the whole time."

"Fine, I won't. Scout's honor." He raised his right hand in a mock salute.

"You're not even a scout!" Maka pursed her lips.

"I was. From kindergarten until middle school. I hated it."

"Really?" She stared for a moment, willing herself not to picture him in one of those uniforms with the kerchiefs and knee-length shorts…"I can't see it."

"Yeah, most people can't. 'S why I don't talk about it. It's not me. And it's embarrassing."

"Yeah…"

"So, the date? Any preferences?"

"Hmm…how about dinner and a movie?"

"Come on, Maka, that's so cliche." He nearly cringed at the thought. "Plus, if your taste in movies is as bad as your taste in music…"

She slapped his arm.

"I'm not wrong." He chuckled. "I guess dinner wouldn't be so bad. But not a movie in a theater. We could…go for a ride in the park." He mused, referring to the town's central square.

"A carriage ride? Now who's cheesy?" She giggled.

"It was just a thought…" He grumbled, eyeing her from beneath his bangs. "I dunno, it'd….fun."

"Not really. The horse here is way too old to still be alive, but less pulling a cart." She mused. "Dinner is fine, and whatever else we want to do after will just happen."

"Sure, I guess."

"It's a date then. How about….next Friday?"

"I can't. I uh…have plans."

"Oh, okay." She eyed him curiously. "We'll I really won't be free after that. Lots of tests and projects and such before Thanksgiving break….how's tomorrow? I know it's sudden, but…"

"Works for me." He grinned.

"Great." She beamed. "So…" She suddenly got serious. "You say my movie taste sucks…"

"Are you still on that?!"

"Yes! You can't just assume that I like bad movies because you don't agree with my music taste!"

"I can and I am." He snickered when she huffed and shifted away from him.

"What do you like, then?!"

"Hmmm…Fight Club, V for Vendetta, and Schindler's List are probably my top three."

"I've heard of all of those. Never seen them, though."

" 'Course not. What about-"

Suddenly, haphazard rhythms sliced the blissful silence, prompting a gasp from Maka and a distasteful frown from Soul. "Really?"

"Sssshh- Yes, Papa? No, nothing's wrong, I'm fine, I just- holy crap!" She muttered as she checked the time. "Yes…yes I see what time it is. Papa- nothing happened so stop complaining. Papa- yes….no….no, Papa- augh! I'm coming home, okay?! Quit yelling!" She smashed her finger into the red phone button and clicked her tongue. "Gotta go, Papa awaits."

"Wait, you didn't tell me your picks, yet."

"I'll think about it and tell you later. I really have to go. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Bye!"

"Bye." Sagging crimson stared after her retreating form, but he quickly drowned out his lingering thoughts by filling his ears with sweet auditory escape.


	3. Chicken Soup, Green Tea, and Dead Poets

When Maka approached their table the next morning, she found her table mate in one of his brooding moods, hunched over his plate with a deep scowl.

"What's eating you?"

"I caught the stupid college cold." He grumbled, ignoring her little attempt at a pun as he stabbed his eggs with a resounding clink. His voice was indeed more nasal than usual, and his normally tan cheeks seemed flushed.

"Happens to everyone eventually." She gave him a sympathetic half-smile as she munched on her pancakes.

"Yeah but…did it have to happen today…"

"Wha-ooooh." She blushed, realizing she'd already forgotten their date. She'd been so busy… "It's alright, Soul. I have a lot to do this weekend anyway. We can do it when you feel better."

He mumbled something to himself before shoving a forkful of fluffy yellow into his cheeks.

"Oh stop pouting." She quirked a grin. "If you're a good boy…"

"Wh-wha" He spluttered, nearly spitting egg bits all over her shirt.

"Never mind." She sipped her juice. "We can go somewhere else for lunch-"

"Won't be here. My 11am got cancelled, so after my 9am is over, I'm heading back to my apartment."

"Oh, Okay. I'll call and check up on you tonight, then."

"Okay." He pulled his gaze from her. What was it about her that…made his stomach flutter, like we was a little kid again, on stage in front of a full crowd. He didn't know for sure, but he did know that he didn't really mind sticking around to find out.

* * *

Later that evening, he lay sprawled across his couch, the Claritin having wore off about an hour ago. He groaned when the doorbell sounded, expecting to see his beer-loving, blue-haired neighbor with a six pack. He had enough of a headache without-

His jaw slackened when blonde met his eyes.

"Hey, Soul!" Maka beamed and lifted the grocery bags in her fists. "Can I come in?"

"S-sure." He stepped back and she sauntered happily into the room; she placed her load on his kitchen table and turned back to him.

"You, mister, are going to feel so much better after this."

"Thanks, but…how did you-"

"A girl has her ways."

"Meaning Blake?"

"Sit." She pointed, emerald eyes fierce with determination. "Since we can't have a "real" date night out," She even did air quotes with her fingers. What a dork. An adorable dork. "I decided to bring the date night to you." She grinned widely, extremely proud of herself as she turned toward the kitchen with one of her plastic bags. "I'll be back." With that, she disappeared into his kitchen.

Sighing, he flopped onto the sofa, face buried in the pillow his granny had sent him. He didnt realize he'd dozed off until he was awakened by the clink of porcelain connecting with his coffee table.

"Sorry." She gave him a half smile when she realized shed woken him. "If you want to sleep I can leave-"

"No, it's fine." He pushed himself up slowly, ignoring the pounding in his head. These pressure headaches were a- "What is this?" He quirked a brow at the mug in front of him.

"Green tea. I know you're not a tea person, but I promise this will make you feel much better than coffee ever will. Orange juice is good, too."

"Ah, classic chicken noodle." He glanced into the bowl and carefully lifted it toward him.

She left him to eat while she cleaned the kitchen. When she returned, he'd polished off the soup and was slowly sipping the tea. "This isn't too bad…" She smiled and reached into the remaining grocery bag, pulling out a few DVDs.

"What do you feel like watching?"

"What do you have?"

"I decided to give you a bit of my taste. I have 'The Breakfast Club,' 'Dead Poet Society,' and 'The Truman Show.'"

"Interesting choices."

"Movie taste redeems my music taste, huh?…"

He grunted his approval as he reached for the discs and looked them over. "Let's go with Dead Poet Society. It's been a while since I saw that one."

"Alright." She popped in the disc and settled next to him on the couch.

"I thought you had a lot do to."

"I have tomorrow and Sunday. I'll be fine." She replied, and the she fixed her eyes on the screen.

He'd never enjoyed a movie like this. They laughed, commented, and even teared up together as they watched the Welton Academy boys bond with their newly beloved English professor. After a while, though, the exhaustion set in, and his head felt heavy. Before he knew it, his chin was dipping toward his chest, only to be jerked up, leaving him in a stupor.

"If you're too tired-"

"Nah, I'm good…" He stifled a yawn and propped his head on his palm, forcing his eyelids to stay up. When that failed, he sat himself up, trying desperately to stay awake. He didnt want to sleep. He wanted to enjoy this, to be with her. He'd ruined their date night, so it was the very least he could do… But before long he was nodding again, to the side this time. His cheek touched fabric and he sighed, relaxing- He blushed and bolted upright when he realized it wasn't his couch, but Maka's shoulder.

"It's okay." She whispered.

"I don't….want to get you sick." He muttered.

"It's fine." Her soft eyes glanced toward him, their glow inviting, and he reluctantly allowed himself to relax against her, his hand straying to her lap as he dozed.

He awoke a little while later, suddenly remembering why it had been so long since he'd watched this movie. He squeezed his eyes tightly, trying to fall back into semi-consciousness, but the tense tune emanating from the television would not let him rest. That and the crying….but…it wasn't past that part yet…

After a minute or so, he glanced up to see Maka nearly biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks as she remained fixated on the movie, oblivious to the fact that he'd even awoken. He stirred slightly, still looking up at her, and she glanced back at him, giving him a tight, pinched smile, barely choking out, "It's just…so…."

"I know." He murmured. He sat up and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him as they watched the rest of the movie unfold together. She grabbed onto his t-shirt and held on for dear life when the time finally came, silent sobs wracking her body, and he held her, silent droplets trailing down his own cheeks.

When the end credits began to roll, they exhaled together, but neither was ready to release their hold on the other just yet.

"That…m-movie just….gets to me e-every t-time." She whispered, rubbing at her face.

"Yeah…" He reached over and wiped away a stray tear, and she did the same for him, chuckling a bit.

"Look at us. This isn't how I imagined this night going, but…"

"I think I can live with it." He grinned beneath the soft pink blotches.

"Me, too." They embraced one another for a moment more, before she sighed and said, "Alright, well… It's midnight. I should be getting home. I'll call and check you later. Go to bed, okay?"

"Yeah." What was this….sour feeling, pinching his stomach when she got up and left him? His left cheek was still warm.

"You don't… Have to go…"

She smiled. "I'll be back, don't worry, but you need to sleep. Real sleep."

He finally conceded, switching off the TV and beginning the trudge to his room.

"Night." She called as she closed the front door.

"Night." He mumbled to the open air, trying to fall asleep with the image of her glistening emeralds burned onto the back of his eyelids.


End file.
